


4am

by nwtons



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: A little bit of angst in the beginning, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:51:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nwtons/pseuds/nwtons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 4am and Thomas is really tired, and he yawns loudly, stretching his legs and curling up again, facing his friend. They're turned towards each other like parentheses, blinking slowly and smiling tired kinds of smiles reserved for 4am conversations on the floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4am

**Author's Note:**

> agahhahahahha can u tell that it's really late and i've just had coffee so there's no way i'm falling asleep soon? this is incredibly sappy like don't judge me, i needed this. enjoy! <3

"Hey, Newt?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?" 

It's 3am.

Newt had been tossing and turning for hours, until he finally texted Thomas to tell him that he couldn't sleep. And Thomas had texted back "Me either", and then he had called to say "I'm coming over. See you in... uh... seven minutes.", before promptly hanging up and arriving exactly seven minutes later.

Now, they're laying on the floor of Newt's bedroom, his fluffy carpet tickling Thomas' arms as he keeps them at his sides, picking at it. Newt has been quiet all day. And not his _usual_ quiet.

Thomas knows when something is wrong.  
And something is definitely wrong. 

Newt shrugs and glances at him. "Not really.", he mutters, and the simple honesty of it makes Thomas' heart feel like it's just cracked a little bit. 

He looks at his best friend and frowns. "What's wrong?" 

They stay quiet for a long moment, Newt trying to find an answer, and Thomas not pushing him to do so. The room is quiet, the only sounds breaking the silence those of leaves ruffling in the wind outside.

Finally, Newt sighs from beside him, and he turns on his side, propped up on an elbow, looking at Thomas with wide eyes. 

"I don't really know... it's just.", he sighs again, like explaining is very difficult. "Sometimes I just feel really sad. There doesn't even have to be a reason. I just feel sad, you know?" 

"Yeah.", Thomas says, though he doesn't know, really. But he thinks that what Newt needs is for him to listen right now. To feel like he's not alone. And he isn't. 

Newt nods and lays back down, hands resting on his chest, staring up at the eiling. 

"It's just one of those days...I feel kinda empty, Tommy. Numb." 

"It's okay.", he says, quietly. Because it really is okay, to feel that way. It's okay. 

Maybe it's the fact that it's nearly 4am, and that they're both really tired, and that the room is warm and the carpet is surprisingly comfortable, but Newt hums and clears his throat, speaking again. 

"Just... I don't know _why_. Like, I just get this feeling sometimes, and it ruins my whole bloody day, and all I wanna do is curl up in my bed and not get up, ever."

"It's okay."

"Doesn't feel okay. Feels like I'm shuckin' crazy." 

Thomas blinks and tuns onto his side, staring at his best friend. 

"You're not crazy.", he says, "Don't think you're crazy." 

Newt sighs. "Okay.", he whispers. 

"I wish I could help.", Thomas admits, scooting closer and plopping onto his back again, sighing. "I want you to be okay."

He gets a huff in response. "Not your fault I'm not, Tommy.", Newt mutters tiredly, yawning beside him. He glances at his friend and smiles. "You do help, though." 

Thomas' eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I do?", he asks. 

Newt nods and turns towards him again, smiling still. "Yep. You come over to my house at bloody 3am and lay on the floor with me." 

"Yeah well", Thomas laughs, "I like laying on the floor with you." 

"Me too." 

Silence washes over them like a blanket, and Thomas closes his eyes. He can feel sleep creeping up to him, but then Newt's saying something and he's wide awake again, glancing at him. 

"Hmm?" 

"I said", Newt smiles, "that I'm glad you're here." 

It's 4am and Thomas is really tired, and he yawns loudly, stretching his legs and curling up again, facing his friend. They're turned towards each other like parentheses, blinking slowly and smiling tired kinds of smiles reserved for 4am conversations on the floor. 

"I'm glad I'm here, too." 

Newt huffs and shakes his head, "No, I mean... _here_. As in, _with me_. Every day.", he says, and, Thomas doesn't really understand why, he's blushing. 

The truth is that there's nowhere he'd rather be than with Newt. Whether it's laying on his bedroom floor at 4am or walking through a park or sitting through dull maths classes in school. As long as Newt's there, everything's okay. He's the best thing in Thomas' life, as sappy as that may sound. Silently, he wonders if Newt feels the same about him. 

He's tired. His mouth is faster than his mind. 

Which is why he finds himself muttering, "I really love you.", before he even realizes it. 

He looks up at Newt in time to see his blush grow stronger, and he's sure that he must look pretty much the same, too. But it's too late to take it back. And, Thomas thinks, he wouldn't want to even if he could. What better way to tell his best friend that he's in love with him- has been in love with him for who knows how long- than while they're confessing things at 4 in the morning out of sleepiness? 

Thomas feels like his stomach is a beehive, and all the bees have just gotten really angry and are buzzing around everywhere. He feels a weight on his chest that wasn't there before. Or maybe he just hadn't noticed until now. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, shifting slightly closer to his friend, breahting a sigh of relief when Newt doesn't make a move to shift away. 

"I love you.", he says, again, still testing the words out. They feel odd, foreign, but right. Like he should have been saying them since a long time ago. "I love you.", he repeats, and then again, "I love you." 

Newt is smiling now, and he has crow's feet in the corners of his eyes, and Thomas is reminded, again, how much he's in love with him. 

They're inches apart now. Thomas doesn't know how that happened, but his nose is touching Newt's, and he can feel Newt's warm breath on his skin. Newt smells like the vanilla shampoo that he always uses, but somehow it's sweeter and stronger than before, and Thomas breathes him in, closing his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath through his parted lips. He feels Newt do the same.

Somewhere in the back of his foggy mind, Thomas remembers that it's late and that he should get home before his mother wakes up. But it's late and he's tired, and Newt is warm beside him, and he really doesn't want to get up. 

As if reading his mind, Newt wraps his arms around his waist, pulls them flush together, and buries his face in Thomas' neck. "Stay.", he mumbles sleepily. 

"Okay.", Thomas concedes, "Okay."

He pulls away, slightly, just far enough to look Newt in the eyes. And then he leans down, and kisses him. Short and sweet and perfect. He figures they'll have time tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. For more. But it's late and they're on the verge of falling asleep on the fluffy carpet in Newt's bedroom. 

"Mm love you, Tommy.", Newt whispers against his lips, already drifting off. 

He mumbles something else, but Thomas can't really understand what he's saying. All he cathes is the word "warm", and it's exactly how he feels. 

They fall asleep quickly, to no surprise. Curled up together on Newt's fluffy carpet. 

 


End file.
